Friday, March 16, 2007

First my favourite handbag, then my sunglasses broke - they were quite old, I suppose, and well-abused. When we had builders over, I leaned forward to look at the work they were doing, and they fell off my head, and into wet cement. While doing the gardening, I managed to accidentally bury them once, too. Possibly, after a life of abject maltreatment, they committed suicide; while I was out walking last week, they fell off my head and one of the arms snapped.

Finding a suitable replacement was not as simple as I thought it would be. The Dior ones had ridiculously large logos. I am not averse to a bit of low-key logo action, but if the logo can be read from 100 metres away, you know you have taken up permanent residence in Vulgarity Lane. Wearing obvious logos makes me feel like a walking billboard; if the designers want to thus advertise their product, then they should be paying me. The one pair that looked slightly reasonable, had ‘Dior’ spelled out in diamantes on the arms. Yuck.

Additionally, almost all of the current sunglass ranges are the ubiquitous, over-sized, wrap-around types that remind one simultaneously of two common house-hold pests.